Jane Austin - Pride and Prejudice

Elizabeth was far from suspecting that she was herself becoming

an object of some interest in the eyes of his friend. Mr. Darcy

had at first scarcely allowed her to be pretty; he had looked at

her without admiration at the ball; and when they next met, he

looked at her only to criticise. But no sooner had he made it

clear to himself and his friends that she hardly had a good

feature in her face, than he began to find it was rendered

uncommonly intelligent by the beautiful expression of her dark

eyes. To this discovery succeeded some others equally mortifying.

Though he had detected with a critical eye more than one failure

of perfect symmetry in her form, he was forced to acknowledge her

figure to be light and pleasing; and in spite of his asserting

that her manners were not those of the fashionable world, he was

caught by their easy playfulness. Of this she was perfectly

unaware; to her he was only the man who made himself agreeable

nowhere, and who had not thought her handsome enough to dance

with.

He began to wish to know more of her, and as a step towards

conversing with her himself, attended to her conversation with

others. His doing so drew her notice. It was at Sir William

Lucas’s, where a large party were assembled.

“What does Mr. Darcy mean,” said she to Charlotte, “by listening

to my conversation with Colonel Forster?”

“That is a question which Mr. Darcy only can answer.”

“But if he does it any more I shall certainly let him know that I

see what he is about. He has a very satirical eye, and if I do

not begin by being impertinent myself, I shall soon grow afraid

of him.”

On his approaching them soon afterwards, though without seeming

to have any intention of speaking, Miss Lucas defied her friend

to mention such a subject to him; which immediately provoking

Elizabeth to do it, she turned to him and said:

“Did you not think, Mr. Darcy, that I expressed myself uncommonly

well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a

ball at Meryton?”

“With great energy; but it is always a subject which makes a lady

energetic.”

“You are severe on us.”

“It will be _her_ turn soon to be teased,” said Miss Lucas. “I am

going to open the instrument, Eliza, and you know what follows.”

“You are a very strange creature by way of a friend!—always

wanting me to play and sing before anybody and everybody! If my

vanity had taken a musical turn, you would have been invaluable;

but as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who

must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers.” On

Miss Lucas’s persevering, however, she added, “Very well, if it

must be so, it must.” And gravely glancing at Mr. Darcy, “There

is a fine old saying, which everybody here is of course familiar

with: ‘Keep your breath to cool your porridge’; and I shall keep

mine to swell my song.”

Her performance was pleasing, though by no means capital. After a

song or two, and before she could reply to the entreaties of

several that she would sing again, she was eagerly succeeded at

the instrument by her sister Mary, who having, in consequence of

being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge

and accomplishments, was always impatient for display.

Mary had neither genius nor taste; and though vanity had given

her application, it had given her likewise a pedantic air and

conceited manner, which would have injured a higher degree of

excellence than she had reached. Elizabeth, easy and unaffected,

had been listened to with much more pleasure, though not playing

half so well; and Mary, at the end of a long concerto, was glad

to purchase praise and gratitude by Scotch and Irish airs, at the

request of her younger sisters, who, with some of the Lucases,

and two or three officers, joined eagerly in dancing at one end

of the room.

Mr. Darcy stood near them in silent indignation at such a mode of

passing the evening, to the exclusion of all conversation, and

was too much engrossed by his thoughts to perceive that Sir

William Lucas was his neighbour, till Sir William thus began:

“What a charming amusement for young people this is, Mr. Darcy!

There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it as one of

the first refinements of polished society.”

“Certainly, sir; and it has the advantage also of being in vogue

amongst the less polished societies of the world. Every savage

can dance.”

Sir William only smiled. “Your friend performs delightfully,” he

continued after a pause, on seeing Bingley join the group; “and I

doubt not that you are an adept in the science yourself, Mr.

Darcy.”

“You saw me dance at Meryton, I believe, sir.”

“Yes, indeed, and received no inconsiderable pleasure from the

sight. Do you often dance at St. James’s?”

“Never, sir.”

“Do you not think it would be a proper compliment to the place?”

“It is a compliment which I never pay to any place if I can avoid

it.”

“You have a house in town, I conclude?”

Mr. Darcy bowed.

“I had once had some thought of fixing in town myself—for I am

fond of superior society; but I did not feel quite certain that

the air of London would agree with Lady Lucas.”

He paused in hopes of an answer; but his companion was not

disposed to make any; and Elizabeth at that instant moving

towards them, he was struck with the action of doing a very

gallant thing, and called out to her:

“My dear Miss Eliza, why are you not dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must

allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable

partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure when so much

beauty is before you.” And, taking her hand, he would have given

it to Mr. Darcy who, though extremely surprised, was not

unwilling to receive it, when she instantly drew back, and said

with some discomposure to Sir William:

“Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I

entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg

for a partner.”

Mr. Darcy, with grave propriety, requested to be allowed the

honour of her hand, but in vain. Elizabeth was determined; nor

did Sir William at all shake her purpose by his attempt at

persuasion.

“You excel so much in the dance, Miss Eliza, that it is cruel to

deny me the happiness of seeing you; and though this gentleman

dislikes the amusement in general, he can have no objection, I am

sure, to oblige us for one half-hour.”

“Mr. Darcy is all politeness,” said Elizabeth, smiling.

“He is, indeed; but, considering the inducement, my dear Miss

Eliza, we cannot wonder at his complaisance—for who would object

to such a partner?”

Elizabeth looked archly, and turned away. Her resistance had not

injured her with the gentleman, and he was thinking of her with

some complacency, when thus accosted by Miss Bingley:

“I can guess the subject of your reverie.”

“I should imagine not.”

“You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many

evenings in this manner—in such society; and indeed I am quite of

your opinion. I was never more annoyed! The insipidity, and yet

the noise—the nothingness, and yet the self-importance of all

those people! What would I give to hear your strictures on them!”

“Your conjecture is totally wrong, I assure you. My mind was more